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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27245026">Best Barista This Side of Anywhere</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous_Authors_Incorporated/pseuds/Anonymous_Authors_Incorporated'>Anonymous_Authors_Incorporated</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Les Misérables - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops &amp; Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Deaf Character, Deaf Grantaire, Hard of Hearing Feuilly, M/M, hard of hearing character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 23:29:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,416</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27245026</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous_Authors_Incorporated/pseuds/Anonymous_Authors_Incorporated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>That isn’t to say Enjolras isn’t predictable. He walks in at seven fifty-three Monday through Thursday, and eight twenty-three on Fridays. He always gets a large latte with four shots of espresso, and puts his change (three dollars and sixty-one cents) in the tip jar. Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday, R makes his drink, and smiles as he hands it over, watching, pleased, as Enjolras takes a photo of the foam art before finding the least destructive way to add his mountains of sugar and snapping the lid on. R looks like he’s holding in a laugh. Enjolras smiles at him in thanks, and finishes his walk to work.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>78</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Best Barista This Side of Anywhere</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>All dialogue is signed after the first conversation with Feuilly, with the exception of the little bit of Quebecois, the translation for which is in the end note.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The barista at Enjolras’s favorite coffee shop may well be the love of his life.</p><p>The barista, who’s name tag reads simply “R”, makes the best coffee on earth. It does not matter what Enjolras orders, R’s coffee is simply divine.</p><p>That isn’t to say Enjolras isn’t predictable. He walks in at seven fifty-three Monday through Thursday, and eight twenty-three on Fridays. He always gets a large latte with four shots of espresso, and puts his change (three dollars and sixty-one cents) in the tip jar. Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday, R makes his drink, and smiles as he hands it over, watching, pleased, as Enjolras takes a photo of the foam art before finding the least destructive way to add his mountains of sugar and snapping the lid on. R looks like he’s holding in a laugh. Enjolras smiles at him in thanks, and finishes his walk to work.</p><p>The break in the pattern comes when he decides to spend the day working at the cafe. Approximately an hour and a half after he had gotten to work, the storm knocks out the power, and as he gathers his stuff to return home, he gets a call from a disgruntled Combeferre telling him the power is out, and asking if he could please come hide in Enjolras’s office where there’s heating and lights?</p><p>Enjolras suggests he call Courfeyrac, and walks listlessly towards his apartment. Perhaps he could set up his hotspot, and make some coffee on their gas stove? That’s what lighters are for, after all.</p><p>It's then that he notices that the lights are on in his cafe, and rushes in. R looks surprised to see him, and taps his partner behind the bar (Éponine), who always takes orders, on the shoulder. She looks up at Enjolras, surprised as well.</p><p>“Same as earlier?”</p><p>“No. Surprise me. I just need something to sip while I work, the power’s out at both my apartment and office. I have no allergies.”</p><p>Éponine turns, and says to R, “He said to surprise him, what should I charge him for?”</p><p>R comes up to the register, taps the screen a couple times, and smirks at Éponine.</p><p>“Alright,” she says, smirking. He hits her shoulder gently, and begins to work.</p><p>Éponine charges him four dollars and fifty-nine cents, and Enjolras tips the forty-one cents into the jar before sitting down.</p><p>R sets a mug down at his elbow, and Enjolras takes a tentative sip, while R studies him intensely. The drink is cinnamony, sweet, and has something else to it. Chai, perhaps? Whatever it is, it’s amazing. He says as much to R, who grins before heading back behind the counter. Enjolras puts on his headphones and works.</p><p>The next break in the pattern comes on a Saturday evening. Enjolras slouches toward the cafe, glad his friends are getting their act together, and desperately wishing they would do it somewhere other than a shared apartment when they both know how much work Enjolras has to do on this article that he has to have on Valjean’s desk at nine am on Monday.</p><p>He smiles at the sight of R behind the counter, apparently having a spirited conversation with the woman with curly hair behind the counter. He supposes the woman must be Musichetta, who Bossuet has claimed exclusively works the close shift at her cafe.</p><p>R sees him enter, and smiles brightly, and probably-Musichetta turns and greets him.</p><p>“Why hello, Apollo.”</p><p>“Apollo?”</p><p>She smirks. “It’s what he calls you.” She gestures towards R.</p><p>R narrows his eyes at her. He taps her on the shoulder to make sure he has her attention, and makes a graceful series of motions, ending with something that looks, to Enjolras, like a flower, spinning and blooming.</p><p>Musichetta snorts a laugh, and <em> oh </em> signs something in response.</p><p>Enjolras is an idiot.</p><p>The amazing, beautiful, talented barista who makes the best drinks in the <em> entire world </em> is Deaf, and Enjolras doesn’t know a single word in ASL, much less enough ASL to have a conversation with said barista.</p><p>This epiphany seems to have taken long enough for Musichetta to have returned her attention to Enjolras, and he stutters out some words that are roughly coherent enough to score him a decaf latte, and he settles down with his book, more staring at the pages, trying to figure out how to learn sign language than actually reading.</p><p>Over the next week, the thought comes up enough times that he forces himself to talk to Feuilly.</p><p>When he sits down at the table with his friend, the first thing he does is apologise. Profusely.</p><p>“I don’t know how I could have been so—so—” he breaks off, and sighs. “That’s not true, I know <em> exactly </em> how this happened. Feuilly please forgive me for being ableist and failing you, both as a friend and as someone who organises an equality-focused organisation.”</p><p>Feuilly raises an eyebrow at him, almost smiling. “If I’d felt the need for an interpreter for myself, I would have brought it up. I make do, Enjolras. I’m Hard of Hearing, but I’m used to it.”</p><p>Enjolras shakes his head. “It’s not fair of me to expect you to make do because I overlooked something important. You’re my friend, and I should have put in the effort, so I’m sorry. I will endeavor to do better in the future.”</p><p>Feuilly smiles at him. “I know you will. I think I now get to interrogate you about what, exactly, happened to enlighten you.”</p><p>Enjolras sighs, and tries to tell the story without blushing. “One of the baristas at my favorite cafe is Deaf, and he makes the most incredible drinks, and I didn’t notice until I saw him signing, and Feuilly how am I supposed to tell him that he makes the best lattes I’ve ever tasted if I can’t sign?”</p><p>Feuilly laughs heartily at him. By the time he’s done, he’s wiping tears from the corners of his eyes, and Enjolras is laughing with him. “Oh my god, Enjolras, that is the most pathetically gay shit I have ever heard!”</p><p>And so Enjolras enrolls himself in an ASL class at the local community college.</p><p>It isn’t <em> just </em> because of the (incredible) barista, he really has been a reprehensibly neglectful friend to Feuilly, and it was most certainly an oversight to have never even <em> considered </em> learning even basic sign language, or bringing it up in conversations of accessibility in schools (and elsewhere).</p><p>He practices every second he can, pulling all his friends into his mission. Most of them, he’s embarrassed to learn, already have some grasp of the language, having started when they learned Feuilly was HoH. Still, he’s learning quickly, and it’s gratifying. He couldn’t give a speech in ASL, but he’s nearly able to hold his own in conversation, now, so long as said conversations aren’t <em> too </em> abstract (aka anything more abstract than daily pleasantries. He was no use in signing about Equality yet, but Feuilly assured him his signing was quite good for a hearie’s, and one day he’d get there). Still, Enjolras had yet to sign a word to his barista.</p><p>When he confessed this to Feuilly, the man quickly put down his teacup to reply.</p><p>“Why not?” He signed sharply. “You know enough to hold a conversation, certainly enough to tell him he makes good coffee, why haven’t you told him?”</p><p>Enjolras let out a breath and replied slowly. “Just because you’re tolerant of my stumbling signing, and you know me well enough to predict what I’m trying to say doesn’t mean I’m ready.”</p><p>Feuilly smiles at him. “I didn’t even wear my hearing aids today. Go be a gay disaster somewhere else.” He smirks. “I think you have a barista to seduce.”</p><p>Enjolras slumped down in his chair as Feuilly laughed at him. “Tomorrow,” he signed. “I’ll do it tomorrow morning.”</p><p>Enjolras took a deep, steadying breath before walking into the cafe. He smiled at Éponine and paid for his latte with shaking hands. When he went to pick it up from the bar, he signed, hands shaking more than they had at his first class.</p><p>“Thank you, R. You make the best coffee.”</p><p>R gave him a smile that was brighter than the sun. He signed something that began with “Thank you” but quickly became too fast for Enjolras to understand. Enjolras winced, slightly. He knew he wasn’t ready.</p><p>“I’m sorry, could you sign that again, slower? I’m just learning to sign.”</p><p>R huffed a laugh. “Don’t worry, I’m just surprised. How long have you been learning ASL?”</p><p>Enjolras scratched the back of his neck, sheepishly. “Six months? I wish I’d started earlier.”</p><p>R passed him the sugar. “You don’t want to be late to work. Thank you for chatting!”</p><p>They started a new routine, of sorts. When he saw Enjolras come in, R (whose full name was Grantaire, Enjolras now knew) would hip check Éponine away from the register, ring him up with some small talk, and make his drink. He’d send Enjolras off with some small almost flirting remark, which Enjolras found himself incapable of responding to for reasons entirely unrelated to his ability to sign, and Enjolras would be five minutes later to work than he had been before this whole thing began.</p><p>Enjolras was fucked. Now that he knew things about R, he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep himself from asking him out. Not only was Grantaire the best barista in the world, he was an artist, and an infuriatingly brilliant cynic, and Enjolras was fucked.</p><p>He realised he was doubly fucked when Courfeyrac, Combeferre, and Feuilly sat him down after a meeting, and told him, in no uncertain terms, that they were coming with him to the cafe to meet the man who had captivated Enjolras so. This could be nothing short of a world-ending catastrophe, Enjolras was sure.</p><p>Saturday evening saw him walking in, reluctantly, followed by three enthusiastic, meddling nerds.</p><p>Enjolras walked up to the counter, and to a waiting Grantaire, and smiled at him wearily. “I am so sorry for what is about to happen to you. These are my friends. Feuilly, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac.”</p><p>Feuilly stepped up first, introducing himself properly. “My name sign is [Feuilly], and I have heard a <em> lot </em> about you. Is it true you make the best Chai latte this side of the galaxy?” Enjolras blushed.</p><p>“Funny,” Grantaire responded. “I haven’t gotten that one before. Best latte this side of town, sure, a better drink than Musichetta, absolutely, but the galaxy? I’m not sure I’d make any statement quite that strong. My name sign is [Grantaire], by the way.”</p><p>Courfeyrac came up to the counter next. Enjolras watched, terrified. “Enj says you’re an artist? You don’t, by any chance, happen to know Antoine Louison who works at the gallery?” </p><p>R lights up a bit. “She’s a good friend, actually. Does that make you <em> the Courfeyrac? </em> Courfeyrac who got into the building of a friend’s ex via three roofs and a carefully placed plastic tarantula?”</p><p>Enjolras did <em> not </em> want to know. Montparnasse may have been his ex, but Courfeyrac’s shenanigans belonged to Courfeyrac alone. And whoever he roped in (usually not Enjolras). He closed his eyes for a moment before looking to Combeferre for help, but Combeferre was smiling at the story, and <em> oh, right, </em> had helped in its execution. Not to mention he was hopelessly in love with Courfeyrac. Enjolras sighed.</p><p>Eventually, Courf was replaced with ‘Ferre. Enjolras let a little of the tension dran from his shoulders, the worst of it was over.</p><p>“What are your intentions with Enjolras?” Combeferre asked coldly, and Enjolras takes it all back, Corfeyrac can go back to talking to Grantaire, what the everloving fuck is ‘Ferre doing‽</p><p>He goes to sign as much, bodily pulling Combeferre to look at him, and instead just kind of stares at him, mouth open.</p><p>Combeferre raises an eyebrow. “I’m trying to figure out if he’s going to hurt you, Enjolras. You’re my best friend. Courfeyrac’s revenge on Montparnasse may have been quite the story, but I doubt that man will ever even think to cross me again.”</p><p>Enjolras loved Combeferre to bits, he really did, and all of his moods, exhausted, happy, exasperated, but Combeferre was terrifying when he was angry. Cold as steel, and stronger than it. At the mention of ‘Parnasse, Enjolras saw a flash of the steely temperament within his friend, and was reminded that Combeferre had always been good in a fight. He was eternally grateful for him, and could do nothing but pull him into a hug.</p><p>
  <span>He murmured into Combeferre’s shoulder in Quebecois. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Combeferre, je t'aime. Je t'aime plus que tout au monde, et t'es mon ami le plus proche. S'te plaît, menace pas Grantaire.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Combeferre laughed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Seulement parce que c'est toi qui me l'a demandé. Y'a pas personne d'autre pour laquelle je penserais faire ça.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Y'a personne d'autre que moi qui pourrait de te demander ça.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Enjolras retorted. Combeferre sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oui, c’est vrai.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>Courfeyrac coughed to get their attention.</p><p>“Sign, please. It’s not polite to switch to a language other people don’t understand.”</p><p>Enjolras nodded, cowed. “I know, no Quebecois in front of you, because you hate being left out,” he carefully ignored the fact that Combeferre was conversing with Grantaire.</p><p>A moment later, Grantaire waved them towards a table, and set about making drinks.</p><p>“I’ve invited him to join us,” signed Combeferre. “I want to get to know him.”</p><p>And so, once a week, some selection of Les Amis came with Enjolras to the cafe and bothered Grantaire while he worked. And Enjolras still hadn’t asked him out.</p><p>One particularly empty Friday, Grantaire held his latte hostage for a moment on the other side of the bar. “Enjolras?”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“I’m not sure if you’re dense or timid or if you just don’t like me, but…” he paused, and the next few signs were rushed. <em> “Would you like to go on a date with me?” </em></p><p>Enjolras smiled, slightly embarrassed. “I’ve been trying to get up the courage to ask you out for months,” he admitted. “I didn’t want to risk harassing the best barista in the world while he was working.”</p><p>Grantaire smiled, as bright as the sun, and Enjolras carried that warmth with him on his walk to work, one hand curled around his latte, the other making one more sign in his pocket. One he isn’t quite ready to share. Not yet, at least.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Translations (now in better Quebecois French!):</p><p><em>“Combeferre, je t'aime. Je t'aime plus que tout au monde, et t'es mon ami le plus proche. S'te plaît, menace pas Grantaire.”</em><br/>Combeferre, I love you. I love you more than anyone in the world, and you're my best friend in the world. Please don't threaten Grantaire.</p><p><em>“Seulement parce que c'est toi qui me l'a demandé. Y'a pas personne d'autre pour laquelle je penserais faire ça.”</em><br/>Only because it's you who's asking. There's no one else I'd ever even consider it for.</p><p><em>“Y'a personne d'autre que moi qui pourrait de te demander ça.”</em><br/>Nobody else would ever have to ask.</p><p><em>“Oui, c’est vrai.”</em><br/>Yeah, that's true.</p><p> </p><p>Extra information because it didn't work its way in naturally:</p><p>Courfeyrac is right. Enjolras and Combeferre speaking is really rude.</p><p>Grantaire lost his hearing when he was twelve, and gave himself the nickname R before that. Unfortunately for him, nicknames you give yourself when you're eleven tend to be shit puns. (Grantaire -&gt; R is not a pun that translates into ASL.)</p><p>Feuilly started losing his hearing at the age of 23, and decided to take ASL then to learn, knowing he may some day be completely deaf. Currently, he wears hearing aids, but sometimes they give him headaches. (This is based off of the true experience of someone I knew.)</p><p>Enjolras is stupid. For so many reasons. The first of which being that if he paid even a little bit of attention to things other than Justice, Equality and Work, he would have known ASL sooner.</p><p>The brackets around the names instead of giving them name signs was not a mistake. I'm not a member of the Deaf or HoH community, so I opted not to describe name signs for them.</p><p> </p><p>I should absolutely be working on <em>From the Ashes</em> or sleeping. I am not doing those things. Oops.</p><p>Thank you for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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